


Pillow Talk

by Gemenied



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemenied/pseuds/Gemenied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What else should you do at 6.30 in the morning? - Fluff as fluff can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own WtD, I don't own the fandom where I shamelessly took the scene and a few words from (BSG) - but I'm not making money and it's a birthday pressie - so please, be kind.
> 
> A/N: Happy Birthday, scription_addict. Hope this is enough of the teeth-rotting kind of fluff to rot your teeth today - *hugs tightly* (Many thanks - as always and ever - to ShadowSamurai for the beta)

 

 

**Pillow Talk**

It's one of those mornings after one of those nights before. Grace Foley wakes up and immediately regrets her raised consciousness. Outside it is still dark, the air coming through the open window is cold and wet.

The situation is completely uninviting to move.

Morning after the night before.

It's painfully unrisqué, this statement, for the bed has only one occupant. There's also no residue of a party where something exciting might have happened to explain her current condition. Grace's hung-over state is entirely due to only stumbling out of the office at 2.30 in the morning and it now being mere four hours later.

She's entirely too old for this, and it's so unbelievably tempting to just turn over under the covers and remain in bed all day. Well, maybe a trip downstairs into the kitchen for some tea and food, and maybe a long bath have some appeal.

Only a little and only much later. Grace could even forget her guilty conscience if she did...

Her guilty conscience, however, doesn't forget her. Especially, when it takes on a human form that resembles - but only in the rare case when he's well-mannered - one Peter Boyd.

Detective Superintendent.

It's exactly 6.33 when the phone by her bedside rings. Caller-ID shows that a certain policeman is already awake and busy enough to bother other, unsuspecting people. Or is it still awake and busy?

The thought process takes too much energy, so Grace abandons it and just picks up the phone. Ignoring it would be useless, Boyd is known to just keep ringing until she gives in.

"Morning, Boyd," Grace mumbles into the mouthpiece, emphasising her tiredness by a slightly sluggish tone.

It has no helpful effect, of course. Boyd's deliberately obtuse in this kind of situation. "Hello, Grace," he announces, unpleasantly bright and cheerful. Not very Boyd, unless he's intent to tease her, which he must know isn't the best idea at this time of the day. "Awake already?"

 _'Funny,'_ she thinks sarcastically. _'Bastard knows damn well I'm not.'_

"I answered the phone, didn't I?" she drawls.

"Which means you are or you aren't?"

"Sod off, Boyd!" Though she's much too tired to give him any real heat, Grace sounds annoyed, and doesn't take any pains to hide it.

"Are you in a mood then?" Well, of course, she bloody is, but it doesn't matter, because Boyd still sounds annoyingly bright, and very amused as well. It does nothing to improve Grace's disposition.

"What do you want, Boyd?" she asks irritatedly. "It's just past 6.30 and I only just got into bed."

"Only just?" There's mock intrigue in his voice...and a just a little hint of something. Well, something. "Am I not keeping you busy enough, so that you can still party all night?"

"It was bloody 2.30 when we finished working this morning, Boyd! 2.30 when you finally let us go home! So, will you kindly bugger off?!"

"Am hearing a spot of criticism in your tone, Dr. Foley?" he continues to needle. "Are you unhappy?"

"Absolutely!"

"Why?" The question is both innocent and entirely not.

"I don't want to get out of bed and you'll make me."

There's a pregnant pause on his end of the line. Grace waits, a minute, maybe more. It always happens. Each and every time, yet she doesn't really know why. She isn't sure she wants to find out either.

In the end, Grace heaves an exasperated sigh. "Alright, yell at me."

"Why?"

"I don't want to get out of bed."

There's another pause, though this time much less tense, because Grace knows that Boyd just weighs the volume level he's supposed to use.

"Get out of that bed!" he commands finally. No shouting. In fact, it was considerably restrained.

On the other end, Grace smirks, which transports into her reply. "That's the best you can do?"

The challenge resounds clearly through the connection and Boyd wouldn't be Boyd if he didn't accept it immediately.

"Get your lazy, fat arse out of that bed, Foley!"

The order is unmistakable this time, but Grace still smirks. "Yes sir! Right away, sir!" She almost salutes.

She can basically hear Boyd shake his head at her. "See you in two hours, Grace," he says very, very gently and very, very affectionately.

"Of course," she replies, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "But don't think I will have forgotten the 'fat arse'-comment by then."

Boyd groans and it's not altogether amused anymore. "Just be on time, will you?"

Grace chuckles quietly. "I will. See you then, Boyd."

"Bye, Grace."

It's still dark and cold and wet outside, and Grace will operate the day on about three hours of sleep and caffeine. The phone, now disconnected, is still in her hand.

It so very much is one of those mornings after one of those nights before. One of those when she sits in her bed this way and holds the phone just this way. And just like she does in those cases, Grace smiles.


End file.
